Flashing cameras blind the LSD Proud Fighting Champion: Hughie Freeman. General noise powers through our sensors as Freeman takes in the heavy commotion and sits at a press table. The backdrop showing the words ‘Fight Camp’ in bold lettering, surrounded by classic Freeman moments merged into the whole of the advertisement. Moments like knocking Solex out in record timing, a bloodied Hughie in a war against Scottywood, and even a lovestruck facial capturing his bizarre series of events with RICK.
REPORTER #1(O. S): Why Russia?
More camera flashes quickfire into action as Freeman’s eyes weaken further.
HUGHIE: Why not?
REPORTER #1(O. S): Because it’s in Chicago.
HUGHIE: Listen, your man had been thrown out and forced to take refuge at Uncle Sam’s. It’s funny cos I didn’t see one of you news hungry twats wanting my story then. Not one single news outlet or coverage report on your man’s plans. And that Mystic Hugh predicated dominance and you didn’t trust the pikey.
REPORTER #2 (O. S): What are your plans Hughie?
HUGHIE: Look at you.. Like a rat up a drainpipe. You’re relentless, mate. For four months I was nothing but dog shit in all of your eyes and now I’m worthy of a front page exclusive. My freedom went by in an instant six months ago, and now I’m the talk of the town. No fabricated story or nothing.. Just plain old hard graft that got me here. Sorry if that ain’t very high on the commercial end for you. Maybe when your man gets to fill Lyndsey in, I’ll wrap her up in tinsel to make it more magical. And pretty.
REPORTER #3 (O. S): Hughie, tell us more about fight camp!
HUGHIE: Well it’s hardly the five star academy so you can put your tissues away. All I will say: my freedom belongs there for the next thirty four days. Call your man institutionalised if that’s the narrative that’s gunna sell.. but all your man wants is privacy.
There’s increased whispers and mutterings in the press room as Freeman brings the microphone in closer
HUGHIE: The travelling community is one big private family and I intend to keep it that way. You can shove a camera up my arse, as that’s part and parcel of the job, but not my people. But even your man has to get away from all of the glittery bullshit. I know my workload, and the faces on those fight contracts.. so let’s just crack on with it. Your man Hughie Freeman simply doesn’t need to be reminded how great of a champion he is every five minutes. Quit sucking me off.. it’s all exciting for you but your man is only doing his job. My passion is knocking fools out and all of the rest of the bullshit that comes with it.. red carpet parties, pats on the back, and happy-clapper feedback can burn in pumpkin hell for all I care.
REPORTER #4 (O. S): Who will you train with?
HUGHIE: Train with? What do you expect me to say to that? A Baloo-size Mogoli..? You ask silly questions then you get silly answers my friend.
More incessant noise coming from beyond the camera.
HUGHIE: Listen, who did your man have to train with to get this LSD championship? If I needed training then you might as well do me up for match-fixing as well. Go in there and take a fall for Troy and Harrison, or any other top five ranked. It’d be an easier way to make some hard heavy cash with less chew. If I’ve told you cunts once.. I’ve told you a thousand times; there’s not anything Hughie Freeman doesn’t know about fighting. And what I don’t know, trust your man.. it ain’t worth knowing anyway.
REPORTER #5 (O. S): So how much money is it for?
HUGHIE: Money is no object to me. I’ll happily give my fight purse to the little bruised and confused: Conor Fuse. The goose is getting fat, it’s nearly Christmas.. and there’s a new Barbie doll on market.
REPORTER #6 (O. S): Are you not concerned about the stiffer competition?
HUGHIE: Listen, there’s not a man, woman or child that could lay a glove or bit of knuckle on me. Fuck lads, if your man is full of shit.. you will all get your laugh if I lose. That’s what you all want, isn’t it? The Dirty Pikey that won’t ever play ball and is a shit interview to get beaten by the elite. The unmarketable guy that you or HOW don’t gain anything from by me winning. But what your man has said from day one just so happens to come to fruition.. then you’re gonna be stuck in the bastard pikey era where Hughie calls the shots. Where your man dictates what interviews he gives and how he is presented. Not with makeup or an exaggerated Irish accent; whatever the fuck The HOW Resident Pikey wants.. your man’ll get.
REPORTER #7 (O. S): What do you say to all the doubters who say you can’t achieve The Miracle?
HUGHIE: Listen, they’ll be no Christmas Miracle if your man can’t beat Lyndsey Troy. That’ll be like Chris Kringle being drunk off his nut and smashing up all of The Fuse households beautifully wrapped gifts. First comes my girl Lyndsey.. like Halloween comes before Jesus’ birthday, and it could be one huge nightmare for your man, I’ll not lie.
Bigger flashes from the cameras as Freeman becomes more animated.
HUGHIE: Let the naysayers nay and the yaysayers yay. Its water off a duck’s bollocks to me mate. I’ll just be locked away like a fucking trojan. Not for the cameras, not cos it sounds good for a headline.. but cos your man lives the gimmick every fucking day.
REPORTER #8 (O. S): What do you say to Lyndsey Troy who says you haven’t progressed?
Pause from Hughie Freeman, whilst the odd flash of the camera fires. The whole room tilterring on a knife edge.
HUGHIE: Lyndz said that?
There’s no response from the journalists. Almost goading a response from Freedom.
HUGHIE: You’re the gutter press, mate.. you’ve manipulated that girls words.
REPORTER #10 (O. S): Do you think you’ve improved, Hughie?
A measured thought-provoking silence from Freeman.
REPORTER #10 (O. S): Do you think you’ve improved from your debut here in HOW when you threw urine out of your caravan window?
Hughie Freeman tilts the LSD championship before hoisting it up on his shoulder. He thunders out of his seat. Seemingly indicating that the LSD championship is a decent enough answer for that line of questioning.
HUGHIE (O. S): Doubt me and I’ll progress every inch of my fist in ya.
The main camera then pivots to grab the action. That’s in the midst of Hughie Freeman putting a large heavy dent in one of the ICONIC fight poster advert stands. The face of Steve Harrison completely obliterated. The press then storms and surrounds the action until Hughie Freeman can’t be seen no longer. Just the noise of the cameras and the human commotion smothering the room.
SCENE #2: Russia, perhaps Candana.. who knows with Pikey Fuck: Hughie Freeman
A long stretched limo ambles it’s way through the treacherous snow in the middle of No Man’s Land. It pulls up into the flat landscape of the mountains and the car door opens. The heavy duty boots are the first thing we see. The next thing.. LSD Proud Fighting Champion: Hughie Freeman
Freeman smells the air and he’s truly one with nature. He’s docked out in a sheep skin coat, flat cap and appears to not wonna fall victim to cruel mother nature.
HUGHIE: You wanted something different. And what were you expecting from your man Hughie Freeman? You wonna try and guide me through championship glory, advertising your man like I’m the clean cut Hollywood heart throb.. when I’m not. Everything you think I am or should be; what you’ve experienced before in the past to the current day.. it’s all different strokes with your man Hughie Freeman. You all a bunch of Fuse’s that all play the game a certain way when your man won’t ever be earthed that way.
Freeman spits on the ground.
HUGHIE: Just don’t water it down with bullshit.. the clobber is grand (admires the coat) just for as long as those cameras are rolling.. don’t expect me to do anything corny. This is boardline 1980’s cheese and I’m not up for pantomime wrestling.
A cutaway shot of an old log cabin, escaping from the snow.
HUGHIE: I’m telling you now mate.. Naw, forget the cameras for a minute. I’m speaking to you man-to-man.. I’m not playing a part here. I’m here to fucking train and not be a piece of hype footage. My highlights are these (throws up fists) and all of the frilly stuff is just added baggage that will only weigh me down.
The sound of the odd bird being the only noise heard picked up on camera. Other than that, we stand in silence.
HUGHIE: If your man hears any brass instruments as some form of motivation.. I’m pulling the plug and i’ll fuck off back home to Cork. No fucks given. I’ve got the LSD belt.. It’s mine to defend how I see fit. And let me tell ya, there’s plenty of travellers that would do the honorable thing and fight your man to the death for it.. minus the glossed shite. We eat, we shit, we train.. and there’s nothing pretty about that, gaffer.
Hughie retrieves his sports bag from out of the back of the limo and heads for the log cabin with a purpose.
SCENE #3: Inside the log cabin (toilet).
Inside the bathroom and it’s nothing like you would see in the movies. It’s the most depressing thing with the bare minimum in there. A toilet.. hole, mirror that has cracked and rotted. You know, the type of place where the spiders have twelve legs instead of six.
Hughie Freeman looks deep into the mirror as he was initially slouched over. Of course, there’s a picture of Steve Harrison in the bottom left of the mirror. Freeman then catches a glimpse of the camera behind him through the mirror reflection.
HUGHIE: Fuck sake, a man can’t even take a shite in peace.. Do you always have to film everything I do? E true Hollywood story is this? Boy, there won’t be anything pretty going on that
Freeman looks for a response but knowing full well there won’t be a retort. With that he digests new information from the silence..
HUGHIE: Fuck sake, don’t make me do it..
Freeman reluctantly retrieves a photo of Lyndsey Troy from his pants (front ways) and puts the crumpled up photo resting over the top of Harrison’s.
HUGHIE: This is without question the biggest test your man has had to face here in HOW. But this is exactly what I signed up for. Not just to give the biggun and hide behind petty contracts. But to get those bitches signed and leave the talking to the talkers. Not to get greedy with coward wealth, and to have the biggest and best fights out there possible that the fans crave. I needed to take this fight with Lyndsey Troy for my own sanity mate. And I’m not blaming Uncle Sam.. I can only blame myself for locking myself into this one. But also know that the bigger the opponent.. the bigger they fall; Lyndsey Troy standing at six foot three, and having the talent and poise the size of Gandalf sitting on Lurch’s shoulders.
From day one I’ve told the whole of HOW that I’m a true fighting man; that’ll fight anyone at any time. But how the fuck could your man look himself in the mirror If I don’t fight the top ranked stars. Aye mate, I have more to lose than that cat Lyndsey does.. its for my bastard belt. But if Lyndsey was nothing more than just another bare bum in the shower, then why bother? Why continue to knock bums out and build a record that could rival Harrison’s. Aye, it looks all fancy in the record books but it isn’t real. Your man’s record would be fake, as too his belt, and his very fucking essence as a fighting man.
Your man is putting his best foot forward. Cos I know there ain’t gunna be any second chances. I’ve already done my time; duking it out with the minnows of this sport to know one or two more fights against the good.. I’ll be right back down there. Your man Hughie Freeman simply doesn’t have the luxury of having days off now. Whether your man likes it or not.. I’ll always be a dirty stinking pikey who should serve the rest of his time rotting in Uncle Sam’s arse.
Not like Lyndsey Troy. The golden girl; the apple of Lee Best’s former eyes. The greatest ever signing he’s ever inked. That’s no secret, love.. that’s gospel. Whatever lovers tiff you have going on.. you’ll always be a contender. You’ll always be in that argument to be the very best in HOW. You’ve got the talent but also that rub. The rub from Lee Best whether or not he loves you today, or wants to stab you in the eye the next. He’s planting the seeds for you and Jatt Starr cos of the damn fanfare that will bring. He’s rubbed you up good and proper, like he did to Jatt in the year two thousand. You’ve been blessed with that, sweetheart.. that’ll never leave you.
But your man here has never got that rub. You talk about progression but you came into HOW like a bat from out of hell, Best Alliance.. when the bond was the strongest when it was just you and Captain Lee. You know this in your heart when your man had to start with the scraps. You’ve even pointed that out, Lyndz. Your man started from the bottom now I’m here. I’ve been through all of the gimmicks, the jails and the fucking love-making with RICK. I’ve earned my very place here and I’m not letting this bitch go. I’ve fought for my very freedom and you Lyndsey take all of those things for granted. Your talent has opened you up doors that never existed to your man Hughie Freeman. But the problem isn’t with your talent or how you flaunt it.. It’s getting the top man to see it. Cos that’s all that matters. When his dog barks.. trust it’s judgement, Lee. You’re on to a good thing.
And if I take your scalp, then I’m another big whisper in Lee’s ear. Lee is indeed blind as a bat.. but he can’t deny the noise. The noise from the HOW faithful, the noise from a whacked jaw, and the heaviest noise that Hughie Freeman belongs. I’ve belonged from day one you just didn’t know it yet. You pigeonholed the character and thought I’d be a quality gimmick match for the LSD division. You caged me, made me my own little playground cos of your man’s unpredictability. What you think you know about me, Lyndz.. It’s all lies. Cos even I don’t know what I can do. They’ve tried to silence your man but I just keep popping up with flames and broken jaw lawsuits against me.
I’ve progressed so rapidly up the ranks, that not even Uncle Sam could hold me back. And I’ve done it with the big HOW shaft following your man’s every move. But fuck heck.. I’ve loved every second of it.
Hughie Freeman stands loud and proud with a puffed out chest.
HUGHIE: Got that eye of The Freeman man.